All Epilogue 23 - Beginnings of Columbia
It had been a while since Lucca had been on Materia; it had felt like decades at least, but a glance at a newspaper said it had only been thirteen years since he had died and become a devil. It was time to visit old haunts, and perhaps see some old faces. ---- Lucca knocked at the door. Cohen had proven difficult to locate, seeing as he apparently routinely protected himself from basically every sort of divination spell, something he had expected. He had eventually had to ask Pierce, though the Shares that still dotted Mirilarin made him simple to contact at least. Even through his resources though, he could only narrow it to a rather remote town in southern Cafeyete, leaving Lucca to go door-to-door. However, he quickly learned that yes, this town did have "an old, anti-social doctor with curly hair and a personality that makes you want to punch him by the name of Cohen". Despite the many changes he had undergone upon becoming a devil, his shifting capabilites had remained intact, something that was serving him well on his visit to Materia. He had taken on a form that was a blend of the customary human form he had once worn and his actual changeling-like appearance; the aspects of the former were downplayed, serving only to temper the outlandishness of the latter. He hadn't bothered to change his clothing, however, and the exquisite kimono he wore open over his clothes and his heavy boots were a far cry from the usual garb of the area. So it was that, although he certainly looked unusual, he at least appeared human. The door opened, and was answered by a woman in her thirties with reddish hair. "Can I help you?" He blinked, and offered a crooked smile as he replied, "I am looking for a grumpy old man by the name of Malcom Cohen. I was told he could be found here?" As he spoke, it seemed she could practically feel his dubiousness that he would find the man in this place. She blinked at the description, "I'm...sorry, do you have an appointment? He's rather booked for today, if it's not an emergency." At her words, the mood suddenly changed to one of pleasant surprise. "Mmh, I don't, no. I'm not here as a patient, and anyway, it'd be hard to book an appointment from where I'm from. Very long distance and all." He gave a dismissive wave, seeming rather amused with himself. "But I am certain he'll want to see me; I'm an old friend of his. When will he be finished?" None of this helped dispel the woman's confusion, and her expression clearly stated her disbelief that this peculiar man was any sort of acquaintence to the doctor. "...If, you'll kindly give me your name, I can ask when he will be available." "Certainly. My name is Lucca." He offered with a smile. She nodded warily and went inside. A few minutes later, a voice called down from above him, "Well, this is unexpected!" Looking up, Lucca saw Cohen leaning out of a window. "It hasn't even been fifteen years yet! Did you get bored already?" He grinned, "Or did you just miss my scintilating company that much?" "Ha. Ha. Wouldn't you like to think that? As if!" He shot back teasingly, returning the grin. "More like I had other business in the area and figured I'd look you up. How you been?" "Can't complain. How's the south been treating you? It appears to have done something to your complexion, if not your ability to coordinate your outfit." He retreated back into the room, but his voice called out, "I'm still busy with something, but feel free to keep shouting. I'll be done here in about ten." "It's been very good, everything I had hoped and more. Been keepin' busy and all." With a snort he chided, "But come on, now, you know better than to place any stock on appearances; save your assessment for later. Speaking of which, do I get to come inside by any chance? Or am I supposed to stand here hollering in the street? I've gotta say, your...secretary, was that? is a little lacking in the hospitality department. I'd imagine you have a waiting room, seeing as you're currently practicing, no? Or does it have some sort of dress code I've missed?" "That's the long and short of it!" he called back. "I've told my staff to keep out 'crazy wizards', and that's what you're currently dressed as. I have had issues with crazy wizards in the past, and I like to have a few minutes of warning before they're in my place of work. So, yes, you did, in fact, miss the dress code. Feel free to come in though; I'm reasonably certain you're still not a wizard." He stuck his head out and added smugly, "That would take some intelligence." Grinning, Lucca's reply took the form of a pair of rude hand guestures. With a shout of, "See you in a few!" he let himself in, strolling over to the most comfortable looking chair in the room and flopping into it, lounging languidly as he waited for the doctor to finish with his work. The secretary, as well as the other three people waiting in the room, watched him from the corners of their eyes with some wariness. About ten minutes later, a man walked out along with Cohen; the patient thanked him and left the building. Cohen looked at the remaining patients, then said towards Lucca, "It would be terribly gauche of me to ignore patients for personal business, so you'll have to..." "Oh no, of course not. I'll wait, no problem." Lucca agreed as the doctor trailed off, snapped his fingers, and walked off down another hallway. When he returned, he held a rather round, contented cat, not in the most gentle fashion. As the devil caught sight of his pet, a wave of utter delight washed over everyone in the room. Cohen blinked at the sensation, "...Well, that's a thing you can do..." he muttered, then continued more loudly, "Here. This should keep you entertained until I'm done." He passed Xiao Pang over to Lucca, who accepted the creature with a jubilant exclamation and cuddled him close. Cohen turned to a woman in the room, "Follow me please," and went back to an examination room. More than content to make up for lost time with his cat, Lucca happily lavished his affections on the animal as he waited for Cohen, ignoring the other occupants of the room entirely. ---- "Alright, that's everyone; I'm closing now, so you can go home for the afternoon," Cohen said to his secretary. She nodded, "Alright. Have a nice visit with your...friend," the secretary said with one last glance towards the outlandish man who had just spent three hours transfixed on the doctor's cat. "I'll see you tomorrow." "Mhmm," he replied. As she went to gather up her things, Cohen motioned for Lucca to follow, "So, what have you been doing?" he asked, as he led the way into the part of the building that apparently served as his house. It was, like everywhere else the doctor had lived, simultaneously highly organized and heavily cluttered. "Oh, you know, this and that. Getting used to the lifestyle and the plane; hell-nobility and all. It's all very different when it's actually in practice, you know? Been learning all sorts of shit, training with Mako, you get the idea." He replied as he fell into step with the doctor. Looking a little too focused on petting Xiao Pang, he added nonchalantly, "But mostly I've been occupied with, uh, establishing and officiating a religion. Sorta thing keeps a guy pretty busy." Cohen looked over at him, eyebrow raised. "...Dare I ask what you're starting a religion for?" He shifted his hold on Xiao Pang slightly, making an almost sheepish face as he said, "Ehh, I may have accidentally deified my husband? And things just kinda snowballed from there..." He shrugged awkwardly. "So I rolled with it and now I'm apparently a high priest...Which is cool, I guess? I'm sorta starting to get used to it." The doctor looked at him for a silent second before breaking into paroxisms of laughter. Lucca just stood silently for a few moments before sighing softly and breaking into a self-effacing grin. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up, I guess." He said in response to the other man's laughter, his self-conciousness tangible. Eventually, his laughter reduced itself to giggles as he tried to catch his breath. "Ahee hee hee...hee hee...how...how did...hee hee...did you just accidentally''start praying to him? Hee hee...oh my gods...that's...hee hee...Oh...oh, I have to go give him a Sending...Oh...so did you build shrines to him before or after the religion got started?" He tried very hard to get control of himself as he added, "Oh, I wish I'd seen the look on his face, I'm sure that was hilarious..." "Oh fuck you, man." He huffed, scowling slightly. "''Yes, I did start praying by accident. He figured out I was doing it before I did. If I had've caught it first I might've knocked it off before it got outta hand, but I didn't, so here we are." Wiping away a tear, Cohen finished composing himself, "Ahh, I haven't laughed that hard in years. I'm sorry, it's just, that is the most ridiculous thing. Ahh," he settled, "So, is this a bible-sermon sort of religion, or more of a free-form, spiritual thing? Ooh," he grinned, "or is it a cult? I know about starting those up accidentally." "Mmh, that's something I still haven't entirely hammered out..." Lucca answered almost warily, "I'm prone to free-form spirituality, hence this entire thing happening, right? But it just doesn't suit a religion centered on Osamu to be structured that way; he is too fond of traditions and that sort of stuff. So, I've gotta work out what those are, precisely. Suffice to say I've been doing everything pretty on the fly. I mean, one second I'm going about my business, the next I find out I've been praying in his general direction and not realizing it, and then shortly after I've got these figments following me around calling me 'High Priest' and asking for direction. No prep time or anything. It absolutely is ridiculous." "Don't you just love the Outer Planes? Nothing has to make any sort of sense." He moved into his kitchen, "It sounds like you're still in the planning stages, and, if I understand it correctly, you get the honour of doing all the work, unlike say, a random Materian cult of alchemy, which will just adopt more members and figure out themselves what particular stupid hat they all need to wear to gatherings. "Pretty much, it's all on me. Which I suppose is both good and bad, in ways." Lucca mused, leaning on the counter. "On one hand, it's a shittone of work and gets pretty weird sometimes, but on the other, if I'm doing it all I have pretty much complete control of it, so we can design it to minimize the absurdity and awkwardness for him, which is a bit of a blessing, you know?" "Are ''you going to have a ridiculous ceremonial hat? Oh, and if you do make a bible, please, send me a copy. I'm sure that will be an interesting read." He gave a snort and a crooked smile, "Nah, hats and I don't really get along anymore; too much going on up there already. I could maybe get away with like...a circlet or something? Or hair ornaments...those are probably an even better choice. Probably will work myself out some sorta ceremonial outfit though, because like I said, rituals and traditions and shit." As Lucca spoke, Cohen opened a cupboard, "Do you want anything? I actually have a reasonable amount of food; this town is too small for me to get away with not buying food regularly." The devil peered over to scan the contents of the cupboard, then shrugged, "Eh, sure, whatever you're having." "Ooh, coffee cake," he said, as though having completely forgotten what the cupboard held within it. As he took it out, he said, "Anyways, the talk of hats reminds me: dispel your shift. I'm dying to see what you turned into." Smiling slightly, Lucca wordlessly complied, his human disguise melting away to reveal the devil beneath. Superficially, his form was familiar to the other man: the thin pale features of his changeling form greeted Cohen's gaze, his long black hair wound into a neat braid and draped about his shoulders like a scarf. There was no mistaking him for the same being, however. He looked much younger than when the doctor had seen him last, appearing to be no more than ninteen at most, and a pair of long, black horns that arced gracefully back from his head. They were flanked by a set of rounded feline ears that matched a long, spotted grey tail that flicked lazily back and forth from under his kimono as he reached for a piece of cake. His eyes had taken on an especially eerie look, their flat grey irises now set in jet black sclera, and his teeth had been replaced by a wicked set of fangs that flashed as he offered a lopsided grin. Cohen returned the grin, "As much as I feel I should be making a snarky comment, nothing is springing to mind. Something about how you apparently never grew up. Anyways, you can still shift, and you can inflict your mood on other people?" The two carried on, eating cake and talking conversationally about Hell. ---- ---- The next time Lucca returned to Materia, a much longer time had appeared to have passed: nearly a century. Cohen was no longer in the small town he had been in the last time Lucca had come visiting. Where he was told to find him this time was a reasonably small yet hospitable island off of the western shores of Cafeyete. The single city here, its population of no more than 10 000 supported by small farms and ostensibly magic, was rather well developed, both technologically and from an urban development perspective. As Lucca walked around, the locals eyed him with suspicion: the distaste of a small town who doesn't often get, and doesn't often trust, visitors. The strange part was actually how little he appeared to stand out among the townsfolk. True, his outfit was something unique, but it seemed like a large number of people here were no strangers to non-standard pigmentation. Most people seemed to have a vibrance in their hair and eyes that suggested elf more than human, and Lucca saw more than a handful of people with jet black hair paired with markedly pale skin, as well as a few tints and shades that served to remind him vaguely of Clover, the changeling woman from so long ago. Stranger still was that everyone knew where 'the doctor' was: at the hospital. There was only one doctor, Dr. Cohen, and everyone he asked seemed suspicious of Lucca's motives in visiting him, as well as relatively sure that he probably wouldn't give him audience. His curiosity growing with each person he spoke to, it wasn't long before Lucca set a course for the hospital, more eager than ever to have a chat with the doctor. Strolling up to the front desk, he requested plainly, "I'm here to see Dr. Cohen, could you by chance point me in his direction?" The receptionist, a young man who looked barely twenty, replied while holding out his hand, "Of course, sir. I'll need to see your forms." "Huh?" "Your forms. Your identification card, your chart, and your appointment record. Though, I don't honestly recall an appointment on the schedule..." he added the last sentence on as an airy consideration. Lucca regarded him oddly for a moment before a slow smile crept across his face, "I'm sorry, I have precisely none of those things. I'm not here on formal business, but I am fairly certain he'll want to see me. I don't mind waiting if he's busy, though, no trouble." At this, it was the receptionist's turn to look at him oddly, "...If...you don't have an appointment, you don't see the Doctor." His expression spoke of a few feelings: the affront of veiwing someone's audacity, the unease of looking at an outsider who didn't know the rules, and perhaps the fear of being confronted with an intruder. The devil continued smiling mildly, saying, "Hmm, I understand. I think I might though, if you spoke to him. Would you at least let him know that I'm here? My name is Lucca." The receptionist continued to look at him queerly, "...I, don't know who you are, or more importantly, how you got on this island without knowing, but, I don't think you know how things work here. ''You don't talk to the Doctor. I'' don't talk to the Doctor. No one talks to the Doctor, unless they're a professor, a physician, or he calls on you himself. If you want to apply for the AHP, you talk to the administrative office; if you have a health problem, you talk to the nurse down the hall; if you want to enroll in classes, you talk to the registrar. I can show you to any of those. But we," he gestured between the pair of them, "do not talk to the Doctor." Pursing his lips, Lucca let out a long sigh through his nose and a feeling of mild condescension seemed to tangibly creep over the young man. "Ehh, ''you''might not talk to the Doctor, but I'' most certainly do, regardless of what administrative nonsense is going on here. That would be the entire point of me coming all the way out here. If I have to stand here and give him a Sending myself I'll be decidedly unimpressed; that was kinda the whole point of my talking to you in the first place." As he finished he gave the receptionist a pointed look. "I...I can't contact him," the receptionist said, with a shaky finality. "The most I could do...is..." he struggled to come up with an answer, "direct you to the secretary of the school offices? And she might be able to get you an appointment to speak with a professor who has the means to call him." He gave him a flat look, "Really? That's it? The best you can do? This is a ridiculous setup; our people give less of a runaround where I'' come from, which is saying something." He sighed once more and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "Alright, that's cool then. Thank you for your time, I suppose." With that he turned to go. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you...sir?" the receptionist offered to his back. Lucca, rather than heading towards the exit, picked a hallway and meandered down it, tilting paintings along the way. The young man frowned in his wake, and pressed a button under the desk. "Hello...security?" ---- Lucca wandered down a few hallways, ending up in a ward. Walking from room to room, he stuck his head around every partition, disturbing more than one patient. Eventually, a man's voice said behind him, "Excuse me, sir?" Lucca turned around to see two large men standing overbearingly over him. "You're disrupting patients, sir. We're going to have to ask you to leave." "Oh come now. ''Disrupting ''is a bit of a strong word, I think." He cocked his head slightly and asked, "Do I have to leave altogether by chance? Or just this wing? Because I don't think this is where I was aiming to be anyway." The guard was not amused, "Sir, we are aware that you are projecting a magical aura. If you do not desist in projecting your aura, yes, we are going to have to ask you to vacate the hospital. Otherwise, we will be happy to escort you to your intented destination." "Oooh! Excellent!" He grinned and the obnoxious aura hanging about him disappated, if not the overall mood. "I am here to visit a friend of mine, but am having the hardest time locating him. The boy at the front desk was of no help to me whatsoever, hence the wandering. His name is Malcom Cohen; if you could point me in his direction I'd be ever so grateful." The two guards looked at each other with raised eyebrows and sighed. The second man replied, "Sir, the doctor is a very busy, and private, person, and dislikes being intruded upon. If it's that important to speak with him, please use the appropriate channels." Lucca rolled his eyes, "Yeaaah, but the 'appropriate channels' sound like a tedious pain in the ass, to be honest." He gestured dismissively as he went on, "It just...really doesn't suit me, you know? I like this better. I feel like, if I wander around long enough I'll eventually find him, and I'll have gotten some sight-seeing in! Win-win!" He flashed a decidedly mischevious grin. They were not amused. "Sir..." one of them intoned, but both glared pointedly. He gave a dramatic sigh, "No good, eh? Aww well, that sucks, 'cause I really don't intend to ''leave and you guys wont take me to him, sooo...we kinda have a problem here." "Sir, we are going to have to ask you a final time to quietly leave the premises." "Ehhhhh, I don't think I can do that for you," he shrugged. "Then we are going to have to remove you." "Do you think you can?" "Should we take that to be your refusal to comply?" Lucca took on a look of deep thoughtfulness, sighing repeatedly."...Ehhh...noooo? Maybe." "Sir. Leave now, or we will make you." "...Mmmm...naaaaah..." he said with a grin, walking away. A tangible feeling of disruption and dischord returned. The two guards looked at each other, mumbling. "Supernatural ability." "Assume non-human?" "Call the Few. He's already using mental magic, and he's likely to become more aggressive." The other man nodded, "Hit him with a Hold Monster," then mumbled something into his lapel. Lucca turned around, and exclaimed, "Yes! Please do call the Few!" One of the guards, meanwhile, had leveled a wand at him, and with a quick utterance, loosed a spell. Lucca shrugged it off, as the other guard also pulled a wand. "Aww really? Are we actually doing this? I didn't even get belligerent or nothin'!" As he spoke, he held his hands up placatingly. They continued to hold out their wands, "Leave. The premises. Now. We do not want to fight, but we are serious. You are violating the rules, and that can't be tolerated." Lucca continued to hold up his hands, 'I don't want to fight either. You said you were going to call the Few; wait until they get here. I assume you've already called them?" The two men looked at each other warily; they continued to point their wands, but held their positions. A moment later, two Few rounded a nearby corner and came to a stop next to the guards, their heads and arms rotating about their insubstantial bodies. One of the men addressed them, "Do you know anything about this man?" They floated closer towards him, and after a second's scrutiny, replied in unison, "Yes." "He is Lucca," one declared. "He is known well by the Director," explained the other. "What do you want to know about him?" the first asked, waiting for a response. The two guards blinked at each other, obviously surprised by the reply. They faltered, until one eventually replied, "...Does...the Doctor want to see him?" "We don't know that." "But the Director can ask." The pair floated silently for a minute. "...He told the Director, 'I have no particular reason to call him, but I'd certainly see him if he was here,' " the Few said, affecting the Doctor's speech cadence. The second chimed in with the same rhythm, " 'Why, is he here?' " " 'How long has he been here?' " " 'And he honestly got security on him already?' " " 'Mother of Gods, just get your Managers to bring him here.' " " 'Seriously, why weren't you doing that already?' " They returned to their strange personal accents as they continued, "Then he berated the Director." "But that is alright. He is friends with the Director." "We are supposed to ignore him when he berates the Director." "He is a friend." The pair then turned towards Lucca, "We are to take you to the Doctor." "Please follow us." "Certainly. Thank you both very much." He said, nodding graciously to the Few as he moved between them and fell into step. The two bewildered guards moved out of his way as he passed by. "...We're sorry for the inconvenience?" one of them offered. "No no, no trouble at all. You boys have yourselves a nice day." He replied with a decidedly smug grin, tossing them a casual salute as he walked off. The Few led Lucca deep into the hospital, up to the highest floor and away from most other parts of the building, save for what appeared to be chemical and biological research labs. Eventually, they stopped in front of a door marked 'Private'. "This is the Doctor's apartment," one explained. "We were to bring you here." "The Doctor is inside." "Thank you again," Lucca said, bowing his head to each of them in turn. "Give the Director my regards, if you would?" With that he turned and let himself into Cohen's apartment. It was certainly the nicest place Lucca had seen him living, though still no less cluttered. Bookshelves doubled as partitions between the vast area of the single-room loft apartment, and various pieces of furniture and lab equipment were arranged amongst them. The doctor's voice called out from somewhere behind the partitions, "If I'd known you were coming, I would have given you a security pass or something, saved everyone some trouble." "Yeah, that woulda been nice. If I'd known it'd be that much of a hassle, I'd've given you the heads up." He called back as he headed in the direction of his voice. "Your reception gets worse each time I visit, it's kinda ridiculous you know." Eventually locating the doctor, he leaned casually against one of the shelves. "Interesting setup you've got goin' on here; looks like you've been busy." "Maybe it's not my reception that's bad," he grinned, "Maybe you just don't look like someone who should be recieved." Cohen got up from the desk he had been writing at. "It's good to see you though. I know that I told people about the possibility of your arrival at some point, but that might have been decades ago. Who really keeps track of every little thing? Doesn't matter; consistency is what I have the Managers for. That and your useless cat." He walked over to him, still grinning, "How have you been?" "If my cat is keeping things consistent, he's not really useless, now is he? You really ought to be more appreciative of his magnificence." He shot back with a grin of his own. "It's good to see you too; I've been very good, thanks. What about yourself? I'm terribly curious to know what this setup is all about." He gestured around broadly. "Oh, this little place? It's not bad, is it?" he said, moving around towards some more comfortable furniture, where the aforementioned cat lay sleeping. "It's what I was starting the last time I saw you: I picked a spot where the people were likely to be amenable, to my ideas," he sat down, gesturing for Lucca to join him in an adjacent chair. "Made a name for myself, gained trust...then I started recruiting. Got more than enough: a couple dozen breeding pairs. Made good progress; things are so much easier to manage and manipulate when you're doing it in the unborn. And they came out beautifully! People kept having kids, and they had kids, and I just kept making them better. Got assistants; my assistants got students. We moved out here, because gods it's easier when you don't have a larger public or a government to be beholden to. And now, this is where I am: three generations deep in the Augmented Human Project, with some rather nice results to show for it, I might add. Ugh," he exclaimed, laying his head back, "It's so good to finally make progress. The first hundred years of my life were rife with setbacks, I'm glad the second century made up for it." "I am too, it's about time you finally had a good run." Lucca smiled, scratching Xiao Pang behind the ears. "What exactly is the Augmented Human Project anyway? I'm reasonably certain I've not heard you speak of it before. At the very least not anything by that name..." "Oh, it's the same old thing," he waved his hand dismissively, "I just put a fancy name on it: making better humans. I finished with animal trials and proof-of-concept testing, you knew that, so I moved to the main event: human trials. A full two-thirds of the population here are part of the Project: children born with modified genes. Most of them are alpha strain: no magical abilities, but with traits similar to elves. Vibrant colours and long life spans. They possess magical organelles, but have no way to manifest abilities. The other strains are working on that. There are two others right now, both of them stable, well-researched, and proving to breed strong: epsilon and sigma." He grinned, "You probably noticed them, if you wandered about: the epsilons have colourful skin tints, and the sigmas are the ones with pale skin and dark hair." He looked wryly at him, "Guess what they can do." There was a long pause before Lucca answered, an odd little smile touching his lips, "Well, if I had to guess I'd say the...epsilons, are they? Might be able to channel along the lines of what Clover could do, way back when. And the others? ...I guess I'd suppose shifting might be their forte." As he spoke, his aura was conspicuously absent. "You would be supposing correctly," he replied, leaning back again. "Tell me more about them?" He asked after a few moments, steepling his fingers and leaning back himself. He looked up with a raised eyebrow, "What, about their biology, or about their personal history? I don't know any of them particularly well...though I could pull charts I suppose..." He didn't answer right away, instead looking thoughtful before shaking his head slightly. "Mmh. Never mind, that was a silly thing to ask." His odd smile returned as he changed the topic. "It sounds like interesting work, at any rate. But I can't imagine you're anywhere near done; where are you headed with it next?" "Well, I think I've seen your's and Clover's traits through to their culmination," he mused. "There are teams working on various concepts to try and induce the abilities in vitro rather than by emulating a native outsider's genes, in order to get brand new traits. Some people have ideas regarding the Few and undead, but I don't honestly see either of those going much of anywhere, not least of all because no base subject is about to volunteer. Honestly, I think my next step is going to be wandering around and trying to find more native outsiders for their blood." He grinned, "See if your husband will make me a teifling, would you? Oh! Or the monster, if he's still whoring his way up and down Hell like he was here before he died." Lucca cringed, and shot him a flat, disapproving look, at this. He smirked, holding up his hand placatingly, "I kid." "Why can't you get any undead volunteers?" He asked after a moment, pointedly returning to the earlier point. "I'd think you could find someone amongst Ryuji's lot, no? Like, have they been asked and everyone has given a 'no'? Same with the Few, for that matter." He shrugged, "Unless your methods have changed over the years, I dunno why either group would be so averse to helping." "First point: I don't think there's any point. These are others' projects, not mine. The Few and undead are all constructs, not living; there aren't going to be any useful genetic components. I don't see any sense in it. The only exception I know of would be Komatsu's tainted offspring, and for that I will wait until he has children again. Second point: no one wants to be a lab animal, least of all the Nationalists, who literally live there to have their humanity back. The investigation would necessarily be much more thorough than a blood sample, because the researchers aren't entirely certain what they're looking for. So, no, I'm not lending them my credence to get support for an idea I see no value in, and that they rightly see as invasive and threatening. They can petition the Nationalists themselves, and wait the 500 years it will take to get their trust. I'm not risking my standing. As for the Few, again, I'm not risking my standing, or any of the Arms. There's a finite number of them; I won't risk them on my subordinates' whims." "Hmm, fair enough. That does make sense, I hadn't considered the differences that the construct angle would make." He smiled crookedly, "One of the many reasons it's a good thing that I'm no scientist." "Ehh. I've seen worse," he shrugged. "At any rate, I digress. They want it, they can pursue it; I'll go look for other changelings. I never did find any other shifting individuals, you know. The epsilons are derived from research from the blood of four element-channeling changelings, not just Clover. But the sigmas, those are all you. Do you want a drink or something? I think I should have something around..." "...Wait...what? Really?" Lucca blinked and stared at him, the aura of surprise that surrounded him seeming all the more intense for its recent absence. He grinned facetiously, "Yes, I usually keep food around." Rolling his eyes, Lucca gave an exasperated sigh. A hint of a smile blunted the edge of his words as he growled, "Ha. Ha. Fuck you too." "I'm sorry, I don't get out much," he said as he got up and moved to another part of the house. "And yes. Your blood is the core of the research that made the sigmas. Made all of the Augments really, because it was your blood that really gave me the information I needed to discover the cell component that allows natural magic. Honestly, your contribution to my work was, and continues to be, invaluable. Definitely moreso than anyone else's." He came back with two bottles and passed one to Lucca. He grinned, "They know it too, the Augments: that there was one particular changeling who made everything happen. I didn't give your name though. Seemed disingenious to do that without your permission." He sat back down, "I could though, if you wanted." "I...don't know what to say..." Lucca replied slowly, a sort of restrained fascination hanging about him. "...you're flattering me, surely. You woulda managed it fine one way or another. But I am glad that I was able to help you out." He smiled slightly, and after a moment's thought added, "You could tell them, if you wish. I certainly don't mind." He shrugged, "Credit where credit is due, and all that. Between your blood, your assistance in tolerating my questioning, and your interest in the research itself, I made much better progress than I would have made otherwise. Might not have looked into changelings at all, honestly." He opened the bottle and took a drink, "Anyways, I'm not about to go make an announcement of your identity or anything, but I won't carefully omit your name from now on." Dropping his gaze, the devil smiled softly and a warm glow of gratitude and pleasure enveloped the area. After a few beats he said simply, "...Thank you." Opening the bottle Cohen had passed him, he raised it in wordless toast before taking a drink. Cohen followed suit. ---- ---- "What even is that?" the man hissed to his colleague. She looked equally flustered as they looked through the small window through the door. "I don't know!" she whispered back. "It's nothing I've ever seen." Lucca sat on the lab workbench, among the petri dishes and test tubes, nonchalantly eating pretzels and wearing no disguise at all. A folder lay open on his lap, and he paged through its contents idly. The hospital researchers looked on in bewildered horror as the devil munched away, his tail flicking softly. A third man walked down the hall. "What's going o..." "SHH!" Both researchers turned on him. "What?!" the newcomer whispered frantically, joining their huddle. The pair pointed at the window, and he peered through. "...What the hell...?" "That's what we said!" the woman hissed. The first man looked back, "It's an extraplanar of some sort? A fey or devil or something?" "What would a...wait!!" the newcomer said quickly. "There's an SOP for this!" The others looked at him disbelievingly. "What?!" "How could there possibly be a procedure for this?" He shook his head, "No no, I swear! I was reading through all of them, and I swear to gods, there's like, 4 SOPs on devils." "Four?!" the woman exclaimed. "Wait here!" he said, and jogged off. A few minutes later, he came back with a thick binder, chock full of papers with tiny font. He flipped through it as he walked, and the other two watched him impatiently. He found the page he was looking for and pointed it out triumphantly. "See! In case of devils on the premesis! Four procedures." He skimmed them over, explaining, "It looks like...there are three for actual individuals? And the last one is a generic catch-all...which looks like 'get security, use Banishment, code emergency, yadda yadda'." The man looked back through the window at Lucca, who appeared to be humming. "So...is this one of the three?" "Uhmm..." he read quickly, glancing up to compare who he was looking at to the description in the binder. "Uhh...yeah...yeah, look. 'Pale; cat-like features, noteably ears and tail; long hair; claws...looks like him. His...name is Lucca?" The woman frowned, "Like the founder?" He nodded, "Yeah, but this one's last name is 'Miro', not 'Wakiya', so...weird. Anyways, the procedure...uhm...says that he's allowed on the premises, and to ignore him if he's wandering around?" "What?!" Both of the others looked flustered again. He shrugged defeatedly, "He's allowed to go where he wants. If he's being disruptive, ask him to stop; if he won't stop, threaten security. In extreme cases, inform the Doctor, but ignorance will work in almost all scenarios. Non-threat." "Are the other ones non-threatening?!" the woman asked in disbelief. "Uhhh..." he flipped pages. "...Uhh...'Virgil Miro' is a non-threat...'Mako' is a...non-threat, but you should never, ever, ever threaten him with anything...anyone else is considered a threat." "That's dandy," the first man said, turning back to the window. "But what are we supposed to do? I mean, seriously, we're supposed to just go in and keep working?!" They stared blankly for a moment, until the woman eventually muttered, "I have to put my samples back into the cooler..." They looked at each other, sighed, and opened the door. Lucca's ears pricked in their direction and he glanced up from what he was reading. "Hello!" He called out cheerfully, waving to the researchers with a pretzel before popping it into his mouth. The three looked sheepishly from the doorway. The man holding the binder stammered, "Well...I...was heading for the autoclave...so, I'll see you later?" With a last glance about, he excused himself. The other two entered stiffly. "Hello..." the man ventured warily. "Good morning," the woman offered, with slighly more gumption. Steeling herself slightly, she said, "Excuse me..." while walking over to the bench adjacent to Lucca. She began collecting plates, glancing at them nervously as she moved them into a small basket. Her colleague, in the meantime, fumbled about near the door, his eyes having a hard time breaking away from the snacking devil. Lucca, for his part, watched the woman work intently for a few long moments before he spoke up again, asking conversationally, "You're both very quiet. Do you mind if I ask what it is you're working on in here?" "We're inducing mutations in bacterial strains, attempting to see if they will manifest particular properties," the woman explained. "We're...we're trying to see if we can control its colour, if it has the NM gene," the man added. "Hmm. To what end?" He prodded, his gaze returning to the plates with renewed interest. "So we know why sigmas have black hair, and epsilons have skin tints? And whether they could be born with different colours?" he offered. "Huh...interesting." The woman bit her lip before saying, "If you're going to be in here, you should be wearing proper lab attire." She muttered as an afterthought, "...And you shouldn't be eating in the lab." Blinking, Lucca slowly turned to look at her, popping another pretzel into his mouth. He took his time chewing, seeming to consider something deeply as he kept his stare locked on her, the mood in the room bordering on forbodeing. Suddenly, with a shrug the tension dissipated and he smiled slightly, "My apologies; I don't recall ever having been asked to change before, but perhaps I'd never quite been in a place that required it. Tell me, what comprises said attire, and is there any chance I could find some around?" She blinked at the sudden, palpable shift in the mood. "Um, yes, well...I have to put these in the cooler before they spoil. Frank, take him to the locker room. You can borrow equipment from there." "Me?" the man asked. She sighed, holding up a petri dish, "Yes. Fridge. Spoiling." Turning to Lucca, she said, "Please follow him. It's just down the hall." "Certainly, thank you." He replied, inclining his head slightly. He hopped off the workbench and gestured for the man to lead on, falling into step with him. "So, you're Frank." He said plainly, "We seem to have missed introductions somehow; I'm Lucca. What's your friend called?" The man seemed uncomfortable still as he led him down the hall, "Um, she's Wendy. Wendy Potter. We're both researchers here. Sorry we missed introductions; we don't usually get...unannounced visitors in the upper labs." He pointed to a door, "Just in there. You'll find everything you'll need. I'll...wait here until you're done changing." The devil regarded the door for a moment. "Everything I need, hmm? This'll be fun, I'm sure." He declared, pulling open the door. Inside, he found a series of lockers, some locked and labelled with names, some without, as well as some cupboard drawers. Peeking into anything that was open, he found lab coats, gloves, masks, goggles, face shields, shoes and all manner of other safety equipment. One locker in particular appeared to contain a complete hazardous material handling suit, as part of a spill cleaning kit. Standing in the middle of the room, he tapped his lips thoughtfully for a second as he considered his options before grinning. Shrugging off his kimono, he tucked it away in one of his belt-pouches and slipped on a lab coat in its place, turning his attentions to the array of 'accessories' at hand. By the time he finished, he was wearing most of the protective gear available, having managed to artfully create a look that could only be described as 'gothic mad scientist caricature.' Stepping out of the room, he turned to the researcher with a downright impish grin as he gestured almost triumphantly to himself. "How's this? Am I sufficiently equipped to safely do the science?" He blinked, at a complete loss. "I...yes. Yes. That is lab equipment." "Excellent! Glad we've sorted that out. " He clapped his hands together, then gestured for him to lead the way back. "So, you said you were working on something involving potential colour control in the augments, yes? What might you do with that information, in practice?" "Uhhh...make...different colours?" Frank was still obviously thrown off of his groove. "It...might let people change the colour of their children's eyes or hair...? Or might let people influence it later in life, or at puberty, maybe...It's...less of a thing for sigmas and epsilons, I'd think...more for alphas, I'd guess..." His pace was quick, and they quickly made it back to the room, where Wendy had apparently managed to successfully put her experiment samples in the cooler, and was preparing new ones. Unbothered, Lucca continued with his questions, hopping back up on the workbench. "Hmm...that reminds me, did anyone eventually manage to work out the sun sensitivity issue with the sigma line?" "What issue?" Frank asked, looking uncomfortable. "The lack of pigmentation," Wendy threw out. "They have very low melanin levels. And no, they just generally add melanin themselves when the sun is out. I believe another group is looking into that? Though I suppose this research might lead into it eventually, depending where it goes." Seemingly satisfied with this answer, Lucca simply nodded and asked another question, settling in to grill the researchers for as long as they were around. Category:Advent of the All